When Words Aren't Enough

On Thursday I was asked to visit with a girl that had just received news about the death of her grandfather. As I waited for her to finish with her phone call, I sat there thinking through the emotions that, I knew for a fact, she must be experiencing. Having just recently lost my own grandfather, I was trying to figure out what to say and I discovered that I really couldn't say anything. Reliving my own experience told me that, no matter what I said, sometimes words don't go far enough.

Some people are excellent at communicating through words, but we all run into situations where we are left speechless. For some of us, this happens more frequently than others. I'll find myself in a situation where I wish I could be charming and witty, but the only thing that comes out is flat and boring. I remember a situation when I was in a history club at about age 9 or 10, we were preparing a skit and we all had to give ideas. All I can remember is sobbing in front of the other girls with no ideas to share - oh, and the awkward feeling that fell over the group afterwards.

As we grow up, things change in the way and proficiency of how we talk. However, this doesn't always mean that we become great communicators. How many times do we wish that we could say what we feel and then the words don't match the emotions on the inside? The heaviness that plagues me sometimes is extremely frustrating, almost debilitating. Apparently, though, my face reveals things I may or may not be thinking, which probably just confuses the whole situation.

Hiding in these facts is a truth for all of us, and a blessing. No matter who we are or what we do, there will be times that words will not be enough to convey the pain, joy, love, and sorrow that we experience. This truth in the Christian's life is blessed by the knowledge that when we don't know how to pray, the Holy Spirit is interceding on our behalf with a groaning too deep for words. (Romans 8:26) And, here is the extra jam on the sandwich (so to speak), He is praying according to the will of God himself. He's not just conveying our deep thoughts to God, but He's actually praying the way we should. How humbling, overwhelming and gracious our God is to us.

So, as I agonize over what I did or didn't say, I can dwell on the truth that God hears what I wish I could ask. He knows my fears and my desires. And most of all, He has made me his own - of His own choosing, not because of what I say.

A Russian Dish takes a Detour

One of my favorite dishes to cook and eat is Beef Stroganoff. This is inherited from my Poppop (T. Henry Jablonski) who enjoyed making it himself. When we were younger, my mom would make a variation of this favorite called "Poor Man's Beef Stroganoff, which used ground beef instead of strips of beef. I liked it in any form I could get it.

Because the recipe is a simple one, it is one of my "go to" recipes on the evenings when I didn't plan ahead. On the way home from work today, I decided it was a Stroganoff evening, and I stopped at Target to get noodles (I may have also put Season 2 of NCIS in my basket). While I was picking out my noodles, I had an urge to get some fresh mushrooms so I could make Hungarian Mushroom Soup tomorrow. I've made it once before and really enjoyed the flavors, so in the mushrooms went, and home I trotted before Kurt called to report his starvation.

Once I was home, I grabbed the ground meat from the freezer. At this time I realized it was ground pork and not beef. No worries; pork is mild and, when seasoned well, it would probably taste just fine. Kurt came in and asked if I was making Poor Man's Beef Stroganoff and I commented that it might be better called "Destitute Man's Stroganoff ." <grin>

During this meal preparation, I had a desire to be creative. With Hungarian Mushroom Soup on my mind, I decided to take some of the elements of the soup and incorporate them into the Stroganoff. After adding the appropriate seasonings (and tasting it), I ended up with a new dish that I'll most likely make again in the future.

Listed below are some rough instructions if you want to try it. If you're not familiar with Stroganoff, I can pass on what I know about it.

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Toni's Hungarian Stroganoff (Measurements are approximate)

1 lb. Ground meat (pork ended up being good for this variation, I would probably use just pork or chicken since they will not overpower the seasonings)
1 large Onion, chopped
2 C of Water
2 Beef bouillon cubes
<1 Tbsp of dried Dill
<1/2 Tbsp of Paprika
<1/2 Tbsp of Lemon Pepper
<1/2 Tbsp. Ground pepper
Garlic powder, to taste
1 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1/3 C Sour cream (You may need to add more if it doesn't look creamy enough. You can also taste to see if there is enough)
1 can of Mushrooms

Cook the meat and onion with some of the water and 1 bouillon cube until the meat is cooked. Add the rest of the water, bouillon cube, spices and Worcestershire sauce. Simmer until you think it has had time for the flavors to spread. Thicken with cornstarch water. Turn of the heat and stir in sour cream. Serve on noodles.
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If any of you decide to try this, I'd be interested in knowing what you think!

The Color of Bereavement

There is a song that Frank Sinatra used to sing titled, "Looking at the World Through Rose-Colored Glasses". If you're like me, you eagerly look forward to those times when everything looks rosy and pleasant. But we all realize that life has a multitude of glasses that we must look through. They could be grey when life seems to be just a collection of tasks that don't seem to lead anywhere. They could be orange when you see excitement, drive and purpose in your life. They might even be slightly hazy when you are looking at the past with fond remembrances.

But lately, I've experienced the world through bereavement-colored glasses. These glasses are unique, and I was surprised by them. If you have ever looked through a Kaleidoscope, you have seen mirrors and bits of colored items (some broken, some shiny) that form a geometric stained glass effect. This is what these glasses look like to me. Not gray for complete mourning, not yellow for happiness, and not rosy for deep love, but a mixture of all colors.

My Grandpa Swayze died on October 17th, 2011. At first the color of life darkened and was clouded with tears. The sharp corners of reality combined with greys, blues, and black of grief made a design that was painful to look at, but it echoed my heart. But, the glasses were turned and colors "fell", creating an entirely different effect. Remembrances that are so sweet, you can't help but smile at the warmth of the memory. Hour by hour in that first week, the design shifted; bringing smiles, sighs and tears in its way.

Life seemed to slow down and crawl for those first few days. My heart ached as I recalled precious times and the finality hit me. Why was the world going on as it always had? Why didn't it care that my grandfather was gone, he couldn't come back and my life would never be the same again? Then it hit me: Who else is having the same experience through grief? I'm not the only one in the world that is going through this. My eyes have been opened with this strange pair of glasses that show me that my grief is not the only one, nor my last one.

This pair of glasses will always be around, although sometimes they will be pale and almost invisible. Other times they will become as vivid as the day of the funeral. Although Grandpa is not the first loved one I've lost, the fact that I'm older lets me see differently and more clearly. I'm grateful that I can see color through these glasses, but some days I just wish for a pair of rose-colored glasses, for times gone by, and a good bear hug from my grandpa.

For the one who showed me the Internet....

A lot of who I am, I owe to my dad. I've enjoyed computers for the majority of my life and that interest started in my dad's den. He would let me play computer games and he pointed out different things about how they work. I remember going with him to a class about computer programming, when I was about 9. I also remember when he showed me the Internet for the first time and explained how email worked. It's fascinating to see what I used to think so amazing, is now a part of everyday life for me.

Whether it was computers, detailed math equations, Theology, or even how to pour soda very carefully, my dad has taught me so much. For this, I am very grateful. So, in honor of the one who introduced me to the Internet and computers, I choose this digital medium to say "Happy Father's Day!" I love you.

Teaching by example
(I have a feeling I was more interested in the sweet stuff in my cup)

Life and Frisbee

Frisbee inventor Walter Frederick Morrison

I played Frisbee last night. No, this is not a declaration of something unusual or rare but it sets the scene of my comments. While pondering some of the plays that were made or attempted, my mind has been formulating some thoughts that might be worthwhile to others.

Playing a good game of Frisbee is my goal on nights like last night. I try to pick up tips and improve my game, step by step. A few weeks ago I was talking to some friends about team loyalty and how to adjust when you get swapped for another player. One of my struggles was switching my "allegiance" and playing well with my new team. Then one friend mentioned that working towards playing a good game can happen regardless of who you are playing with. This brought to my mind that I was spending too much time thinking about what I had done wrong (real or imagined), instead of focusing on improving the rest of the game.

I started to examine my thought process during a game. One of the driving forces to play well was to be a wanted and valuable team member. When I dropped the Frisbee or threw it poorly, my drive diminished because I started thinking about how bad I was playing instead of trying to improve my catches and throws. The more I thought about my potential to over-think my failure, I realized that life has some similarities to a Frisbee game.

Since that lunch discussion and my "analysis", I have realized that all lot of us dwell too much on the past. If you were playing a Frisbee game and someone threw you a wild Frisbee, you probably wouldn't start griping for the next 5 plays, about that thrower and how bad they were. You would start guarding someone and hope to get the Frisbee back into your team's possession. So, why do we gripe about how someone hurt us 10 years ago or how we would be different if a specific event hadn't occurred in our lives? Or even dwelling on what we thought would be pleasant things that didn't happen when we thought they should?

The reality is this: the past is important, because it is true. But, complaining, griping, and slandering people as part of your past accomplishes nothing today, except discord and discontent. In Psalm 139:16 it says:

     "[God's] eyes have seen my unformed substance;
     And in [His] book were all written
     The days that were ordained for me,
     When as yet there was not one of them."

Do you acknowledge His sovereignty? Will you accept where He took you and the things that He allowed in your life? Or will you complain and miss the next five "Frisbees" that are being thrown your way?

Tips for making your Scentsy bars last longer

Do you have a Scentsy warmer? Have you ever wondered how to make your fragrances last longer so that you're getting the best "bang for your buck"? Here are some tips to help you achieve that goal!

First, get a timer from Wal-Mart (Or your other preferred shopping place). When you set it to come on a periodic times throughout the day, you maximize the scent. It takes no more than 30 minutes to melt it. Leave it on 30-60 minutes and then have it shut off. You can have it come on a the best time for your enjoyment! I set mine to come on just before I get home from work so I walk into a room that smells great - and I know it hasn't been filling the room all day.

Second, switch out your scents periodically. This helps combat the natural anosmia that we get when exposed to a certain scent for a long amount of time. (e.g. I had Peach a la Mode going for over 24 hours, I could still smell it when I came home [albeit more faintly] but my brother, who was home all day, couldn't smell it anymore.) You can save the wax you take out and then try it again after you get tired of the "new" scent.

Third, turn off your warmers when you're cooking. The bacon that you're cooking is going to win the contest :) You will want it to fight odors that remain after supper is almost ready.

I hope these suggestions are helpful! Do you have other ideas? Please share them in the comments below.

Tyranny of the E-mail

E-mail - 1: a system for sending messages from one individual to another via telecommunications links between computers or terminals, 2: A message sent by such a system. 

In the past decade, the popularity of the e-mail has grown in huge bursts. It's rare to find people that don't have a way to receive e-mails, even rarer to find someone who has never heard of the world sweeping phenomenon. Usernames that seem to have no connection to the owner have become extremely imaginative and creative. Would you prefer to be known as jane.smith or would you prefer iceprincess18? Ah, the joys in creating a digital part of yourself and your, rarely expressed, personality.

Then comes that special day when you get your first e-mail account. You give your address to all your friends and log in for the first time. Expectantly, you look at your inbox, positive you'll find nice, news-filled missives that will cause you to reply with equally heart-felt verbiage. But, what's this? There's a missing girl in Georgia?? How terrible! Hmm, I should forward this so that people can keep their eyes open for her, even in Wyoming, it's possible that she's in this area. The world of digital communication is so useful! I didn't even know about the fact that if we get 100,000 users to sign this e-mail, a big co-operation will give us all $100. I know I could use the money, I'll pass this one on too.

And so goes the average sifting through the e-mail boxes of today. What has caused this over abundance of forwards? I believe it has to do with the fact that we have become susceptible to the tyranny of e-mail. Maybe not the e-mail specifically, but our perceived importance of the e-mail and those that passed it on. For example, when you get an e-mail that says “Most of the people who read this e-mail won't pass it on, because they're afraid of what people think. Take a stand and forward this to as many people that you can!”, you may have thoughts run through your head like “I don't want to be known as a coward.”, etc. So, you forward it and feel good about “taking a stand”. We have let what others would think guide our decision making process. When, in actuality, the e-mail isn't really that encouraging or God honoring.

So, what should we do? How about taking the time to write our own e-mails to our friends? And if we find something that is really interesting, encouraging or even funny, share it with your friends - but refuse to send it to everybody. Forward to one person, adding a personal note each time. If we think about it more, don't you think that you'll stop forwarding on “auto-pilot”?

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Ps. If you think the e-mail is something someone should know about, make sure to verify its claims: http://snopes.com/

Living on the Edge

Wallflower – this term became known to me early-on in my life. Being one was not fun, and sometimes hurt. I was not cool. I couldn't dress to impress. We didn't throw parties that everyone was begging to attend. I still remember feeling proud the day when Dad picked us up from a birthday party in his company car – a deep purple Firebird – our “recognition factor” jumped several points as guys and girls crowded around to see it. The white Camaro had the same effect. 

Our church youth group was something of which my sister and I longed to be a part. We tried to join groups in discussion, we joined the musicians and played with the congregational singing. Our parents didn't let us attend many sleepovers so our “fun times” were somewhat limited, but still there.

I must have mentioned some of these feelings of being unwanted to one of my mother's friends and she told me something I'll never forget. “Toni, sometimes being a wallflower is better than being in the popular crowd.” 

This made me think and finally start to accept my “status”. Life moved on. We changed churches a couple times and I moved south. But, I stayed on the edge.

Not all is lonely on the edge. I have many friends and times to talk and learn are many, but the drive to be popular has lessened some and I find life is less stressful. The benefits of a wallflower have increased as I consider my life. My growth in Christ has been assisted by true friends but not pressured by peers. Peer pressure is less on the edge and only has disastrous effects when trying to join the crowds. Don't get me wrong, I'm not denying that I would like to be considered popular. There is a deep feeling in all of us to be wanted by others.

The challenge/point of this post? Don't strive to be the center in the popular crowd. Strength to stand alone is greater when not spinning on the popularity merry-go-round. Seek the Lord and His will for your friendships, standards, and directions for your life.

If you are at the center of a crowd, don't underestimate the power of your influence. You may find it harder to stand-up for what's right, but the effects will be far-reaching. Also, consider those on the edge, a smile or an interest in their life goes a long way. But like I mentioned above – seek God and His will, without pressure for results acceptable to those around you.

Scars, Dimples, or Freckles?

The mark that Jesus leaves when He touches us is permanent. It's a mark that we notice, even though we may not attribute it to Him at first. It's not a mark that can be covered, because it overcomes our human nature. 

But the marks I'm writing about are the ones we leave. Think about your encounters with friends and strangers - "That song I really like, didn't Jenny play it for me?", "Never said 'Dude' until I met Joe", "That recipe is from Mom's college roommate", or "I really liked the shirt that the cashier was wearing". You are affected every day by touches from others. In the same way, you touch those you meet.

What kind of marks are you leaving? Scars are left by wounds that don't heal properly. Have you ripped something from someone? My mom has a dimple that was a result of an accident with a bicycle and a glass bottle. So her wound became something that is attractive. Some friendships start off quite rough, but as kindness and forgiveness enter the relationship they provide healing in an amazing way. Freckles are sometimes caused by sun, so a touch of warmth in a person's life can leave a positive mark as a result of your encounter. 

So how are you touching lives? How do you let someone's touch effect you? Remember, you leave a mark, even when you don't realize it.

Beware of "The Watcher"

If earthly comparison was an evil creature, I could easily picture a sea creature like "The Watcher" from Lord of the Rings; octopus-like tentacles with fingers, a mouth that opens up larger than imagined, and a tenacious nature hard to kill.

Through my battles with comparison, I have seen relationships suffer deeply and my attitudes reflect my heart instead of Christ's character. Comparison reaches into the depths of our emotions, clouds our thoughts and tries to hide God's truth. If I'm not dwelling on truth, a Godly, talented person can "cause" me to become bitter, towards them or just my own actions. My desire is to become like Christ, so why do I think becoming more like someone else would make it more likely?

Because of this struggle, I found the following quote to be a blessing and wanted to pass it on to whoever might read this.

Elisabeth Elliot said: "My limitations become, in the sovereignty of God, gifts. For it is with the equipment that I have been given that I am to glorify God." (A Lamp for My Feet, p. 125) The Bible reference that this quote seems to picture is 1 Corinthians 12.